INTRODUCTION Cultural Phenomenon or Cultural Catastrophe?
You will give the people an ideal to strive towards. They will race behind you, they will stumble, they will fall. But in time, they will join you in the sun. In time, you will help them accomplish wonders. . . . —Jor-El in Man of Steel (2013) The immense popularity of live action superhero adaptations, and Hollywood’s relatively recent embrace of comic book characters, reflects a shifting range of cultural, political, economic, industrial and technological issues. . . . Despite the assumption often made by film critics, viewers and even some of the film-makers that superhero movies are merely simple-minded and juvenile entertainment (derived from silly and childish comic books), there is no simple answer for why this genre is so appealing at this moment in history. . . . —Jeffrey A. Brown, The Modern Superhero in Film and Television: Popular Genre and American Culture (2016) In April 2019 Avengers: Endgame, the twenty-second film in what is widely referred to as the MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe), smashed box-office records all over the globe on its way to becoming the most financially successful film ever made, almost exactly eleven years after the first film in the
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series, Iron Man, in 2008. Given the unprecedented financial success and cultural impact of the MCU, a franchise that has made billions of dollars at the cinema and many billions more in other subsidiary revenue streams outside of it on its way to becoming the largest film franchise in the history of the medium, it is hard to recall what a gamble Iron Man once was for the then fledgling film studio. During the 1990s and early 2000s Marvel had grown increasingly dissatisfied with licensing its iconic characters out to other studios and decided to make the move into film production, where the financial risks are undoubtedly greater but so are the potential rewards. When Iron Man went into production what some have subsequently referred to as the superhero “renaissance,” “resurgence,” “boom,” “rebirth,” or “revival” had yet to entirely solidify, but within a few years the superhero film would become the most popular genre for audiences around the world.1 Indeed, 2008 is the year Liam Burke argues should be regarded as the time “the superhero movie and comic book movie genres arguably found their ‘real voice.’ ”2 This “real voice” that Burke speaks of is demonstrated by the fact that for the first time ever in 2008 there were three superhero films in the top ten global box office: The Dark Knight, Iron Man, and Hancock, with the former making more than a billion dollars worldwide and winning two of the eight Academy Awards it was nominated for (Best Supporting Actor and Best Sound Editing). Ten years later in 2018, the genre had consolidated this position of global box-office superiority and acute cultural impact with not only its first ever Best Picture nomination at the Academy Awards for Black Panther, but a remarkable six out of the top ten most financially successful films of the year featured superheroes: Avengers: Infinity War, Black Panther, Incredibles 2, Venom, Deadpool 2, and Aquaman (with Ant-Man and the Wasp just outside at number eleven). This was an unprecedented feat for any genre in the history of the medium and contributed significantly to 2018 being the highest earning year in box office history in both the United States (with a total of $11.85 billion) and globally ($41.7 billion) at that time.3 The following year in 2019 Avengers: Endgame was, of course, expected to be successful, but it was even bigger than anyone could have anticipated, even Kevin Feige himself, president of Marvel Studios and the architect of Marvel’s transition from comic book publisher to veteran film studio, with an opening weekend of $357 million at the domestic box office, a full $100 million more than the record set in the previous year by Avengers: Infinity War, and an international gross of
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more than a billion dollars in three days, two feats that had never even come close to being achieved before. The film ultimately passed James Cameron’s Avatar (2009) as the most successful film ever made, with a gross of over $2.79 billion. It was not always like this. Superheroes have been a perennial part of popular culture since the appearance of Superman (April 1938), Batman (May 1939), Captain America (March 1941), and Wonder Woman (October 1941) in the first editions of their respective comic books, and had intermittently reached the television and cinema screens in the subsequent decades. But while the 1970s and 1980s saw the groundbreaking release of Superman (1978) and Tim Burton’s Batman (1989), both of which began hugely successful, long-running franchises and inspired generations of children to play with action figures, eat from branded lunchboxes, and sleep on pillow cases adorned with their heroes’ faces, they did not inspire the wave of additions to the genre the likes of which we have experienced since the turn of the millennium that are the focus of this book. Like most cultural and artistic moments, the return of superhero genre, whether we wish to call it a renaissance or a resurgence or use some other, much more pejorative term as some critics have, proves difficult to date. Liam Burke is right to say that by 2008 it had found it’s “real voice,” but a case can be made that this return actually started as early Bryan Singer’s X-Men (2000), which earned a then formidable $296 million dollars and was the only superhero film in the top ten global box office, indeed the only notable American superhero film even made in that year. X-Men revealed to studios that there was money to be made again in the genre after the excesses of the late 1980s and 1990s had seen both the Superman and Batman franchises devour themselves in the wake of the critical and commercial disappointments of their respective fourth installments, Superman IV: Quest for Peace (1987) and Batman & Robin (1997). Might we instead consider Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man (2002), made two years later, as the true starting point? The film not only reinvented the character in his first real big screen appearance but also unquestionably established a template for the majority of superhero films that followed, and it was the first film from the genre to be the highest grossing film of the year at the domestic box office since Batman in 1989. What, though, of Christopher Nolan’s richly textured Batman Begins (2005), a film that arguably approached the superhero genre seriously for the first time and began an influential trilogy
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which would redefine it in a process that has been described by some as “Nolanisation”?4 Each of these three films, while certainly not realistic in the sense the term is usually applied to cinema, set their narratives in more believable worlds, with more human protagonists than those that appeared in the genre in the decades before. In the modern superhero film characters tend not to fly around the world to turn back time to return a loved one to life, as Superman once did in Superman or pick up the Statue of Liberty, as he did in Superman IV: The Quest for Peace. Contemporary superhero films do not usually have scenes like the brilliantly exaggerated art gallery heist in Batman, orchestrated to Prince’s “Partyman” (1989), or armies of penguins equipped with rockets like those in Batman Returns (1992). Far from this, as David Goyer, the screenwriter of Batman Begins and Man of Steel suggested, the new superhero films are those which “could happen in the same world in which we live.”5 While its commercial and cultural impact is impossible to deny, the genre has been frequently criticized throughout its history, as early as Fredric Wertham’s now much derided Seduction of the Innocent (1954). In more recent years these criticisms have been wide ranging: Academy Award winning director Alejandro González Iñárritu remarked of the superhero genre, “They have been poison, this cultural genocide, because the audience is so overexposed to plot and explosions and shit that doesn’t say anything about the experience of being human.”6 Jodie Foster continued the environmental disaster metaphor when she informed the Radio Times that “studios making bad content in order to appeal to the masses and shareholders is like fracking—you get the best return right now but you wreck the earth. It’s ruining the viewing habits of the American population and then ultimately the rest of the world.”7 And the renowned graphic novelist Alan Moore declared they were to be considered a “cultural catastrophe.”8 There is a pronounced element of elitism embodied in many of these comments about the genre, which can be seen even more explicitly in those by Ethan Hawke, an Academy Award–nominated actor (Training Day [2001] and Boyhood [2014]), who stated, “Now we have the problem that they tell us Logan [2017] is a great movie. Well, it’s a great superhero movie. It still involves people in tights with metal coming out of their hands. It’s not [Robert] Bresson. It’s not [Ingmar] Bergman,”9 a sentiment that is frequently combined with the contention that the genre is one only suitable for children, with adults who express their appreciation of
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it found guilty of being deficient in some way. Two notable directors who each made their mark on the science fiction film in the second half of the twentieth century asserted this quite clearly: David Cronenberg, who said, “A superhero movie, by definition, you know, it’s comic book. It’s for kids,” and Terry Gilliam, who stated, “I hate superheroes. It’s bullshit. Come on, grow up!”.10 Susan Faludi, in her essential The Terror Dream: Fear and Fantasy in the Post-9/11 Era (2007), argued that the superhero only appeals to “someone, typically a prepubescent teenage boy, who feels weak in the world and insufficient to the demands of the day and who needs a Walter Mitty bellows to pump up his self-worth.”11 Cronenberg, Gilliam, and Faludi insist that there is little of worth to be found for adults in the superhero genre, an assumption that the box office numbers and audience statistics might be seen to challenge. In the case of the recordbreaking opening weekend of Avengers: Endgame in the United States. audiences were reportedly made up of 57 percent male and 43 percent female; of those only 11 percent were teens, with 71 percent being adults.12 These criticisms came to a head in 2019, the very same year the genre had achieved such unprecedented financial success and cultural impact, with esteemed director Martin Scorsese’s comments describing superhero films, in particular those from the MCU, as “not cinema. Honestly, the closest I can think of them, as well-made as they are, with actors doing the best they can under the circumstances, is theme parks. It isn’t the cinema of human beings trying to convey emotional, psychological experiences to another human being.”13 Scorsese’s criticisms, which he expanded upon in a thought-provoking follow-up article in the New York Times, undeniably raised valid points about the ubiquity of franchise films and their hold over what audiences are offered at the cinema. Of course, if anyone has earned the right to an opinion about the American film industry it is certainly Martin Scorsese, yet his assertion emerges as problematic with the admission that he had never actually seen a superhero film all the way to the end. To level such unqualified opprobrium at something one has never experienced is just as questionable as those who picketed Scorsese’s own The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) without viewing it.14 A more reasonable suggestion, one that can be applied to any film regardless of the genre it contributes to, might be to use the approach suggested by the cinematographer Dante Spinotti. The renowned Italian director of photography has worked on a superhero film, Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018), but is more famous for
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the two Academy Award nominations he received for Curtis Hanson’s L.A Confidential (1997) and Michael Mann’s The Insider (1999). In the wake of Scorsese’s comments Spinotti remarked, “I divide movie-making into two large categories good movies and bad movies. That’s all there is to it.”15 Simply put there are good superhero films and bad superhero films, just as there are good and bad horror films, westerns, musicals, biopics, and gangster films—where the majority of Scorsese’s oeuvre resides. To state that all entrants from any given genre are not worthy of being called “cinema” is both illogical and misguided. George Miller, Scorsese’s contemporary and a director who has worked in more genres than most but not yet made a superhero film, commented, “To be honest, in terms of this debate, cinema is cinema and it’s a very broad church. The test, ultimately, is what it means to the audience.”16 It might be hard to convince these numerous critics of the pleasures and cultural relevance of the superhero genre, but it has not been hard to do the same for the public, which has gone to see them in droves in an age when cinema attendance is down across the board, even though studios earn higher profits than ever. Yet ultimately this is the central purpose of this slim volume in the Short Cuts series: to open up avenues of discussion for the genre’s efficacy and its relevance, its possibilities and
Fig. 0.1 The superhero film as the most popular genre around the globe: Catastrophe or phenomenon? The record-breaking Avengers: Endgame (2019).
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limitations, and, ultimately, its cultural importance. This book argues that the genre is worth studying not despite the criticisms directed at it but because of them, and not simply due to its financial success but also for a diverse variety of reasons, the first of which might be that it alone, above all genres, has come to embody and even redefine the parameters of the contemporary Hollywood blockbuster film, providing a template for many of the changes that have swept through the industry over the last twenty years. This is an era that has seen the embrace of CGI (computer generated images), action, and spectacle, leading to what has been described by some as a return to the “cinema of attractions,” Tom Gunning’s categorization of trends in the early decades of cinema history that sought to directly solicit “spectator attention, inciting visual curiosity, and supplying pleasure through an exciting spectacle—a unique event.”17 Until quite recently sequels were generally expected to generate diminishing returns for studios and almost always less critical praise. As Carolyn Jess-Cooke wrote in her Film Sequels: Theory and Practice from Hollywood to Bollywood (2009), “The reason why a sequel disappoints—and why the very concept of sequelisation is met with a collective groan—seems to do with how the sequel re-imagines and extends the source in ways than impose upon our memories and interpretation of the previous film. In creating a second ending of an ‘original’ the sequel conjures a previous viewing experience, and it is precisely this imposition of spectatorial memory, or this kind of enforced retro-interpretation and continuation, that appears to underline the sense of dissatisfaction that the sequel often creates.”18 This was the commonly held view before 2009, when Jess-Cooke’s book was published, illustrated by the diminishing financial and critical returns of the original incarnations of franchises like Superman (1978–1987), Batman (1989–1997), and the Beverly Hills Cop trilogy (1984–1994). Yet in the modern era this is far from the case, with sequels now expected to earn more money than the films that precede them, both inside and outside of the superhero genre. Indeed, the sequel paradigm which defined Hollywood film production from the 1980s to the early 2000s is now seen as progressively outdated for more substantial brands in an age where the “universe” model is considered a more compatible long-term business strategy. This model can be very lucrative, fueling as it does a linked chain of additional revenue streams, from toys and video games to music and theme park rides, but it can also collapse: as ambitious plans to follow the
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likes of X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009), The Amazing Spider-Man (2012), Ghostbusters (2016), The Mummy (2017), and King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017) disappeared after their first installments failed to meet the expectations of either producers or fans.19 These developments, propelled to a large extent by the superhero film, have led to the emergence of new terminology required to keep up with these changes. Prior to 2000s the word “sequel” seemed to be just about enough to describe what came after a financially successful film if producers decided to make another installment (and sometimes “prequel”), but now audiences have become increasingly familiar with terms like reboot, reimagining, sidequel, midquel, interquel, paraquel, circumquel, and even stealth sequel!20 The superhero genre also provides us with the consummate example of the increasing size, speed, and frequency of blockbuster scale film production. For example, prior to this contemporary revival of the genre, the Batman franchise in the late 1980s and 1990s comprised of four films released over a nine-year period: Batman (1989), Batman Returns (1992), Batman Forever (1995), and Batman & Robin (1997). Superman followed exactly the same pattern: Superman (1978), Superman II (1980), Superman III (1983),
Fig. 0.2 The superhero genre exemplifies the American film industry’s transition from the dominance of the sequel to the universe model in films like Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016), where three iconic figures share the screen for the first time ever.
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and Superman IV: The Quest for Peace (1987). However, as we have seen, phases 1, 2, and 3 of the MCU consisted of twenty-three films in the space of eleven years, with Robert Downey Jr. playing Iron Man/Tony Stark in ten of these: Iron Man (2008), The Incredible Hulk (2008), Iron Man 2 (2010), The Avengers (2012), Iron Man 3 (2013), Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015), Captain America: Civil War (2016), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Avengers: Infinity War (2018), and Avengers: End Game (2019)—more than the combined appearances of Batman and Superman in both their aforementioned franchises—and even in five blockbusters across five successive summers. Furthermore, the speed with which the reboot process now moves is also remarkable; thus, a mere five years after the conclusion of Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy (2002–2007) the character was rebooted and recast, played by Andrew Garfield in two films directed by Marc Webb: The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) and The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014); which was followed just two years later when the character was brought into the Marvel Cinematic Universe after an agreement was reached between Sony and Marvel; this time played by Tom Holland, first as part of an ensemble in Captain America: Civil War (2016), then in his own film in Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), then both Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame, followed by Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019). As one can see, the character appeared in ten films in the space of seventeen years, played by three different actors, with the Holland version in particular appearing in five films in the space of four years. While this frequency obviously delights fans who are eager to see their favorite superheroes on the screen as often as possible, it can also cause problems as rival studios become so eager to replicate the successes of the MCU that they rush films into production (see Suicide Squad [2016], Justice League [2017], and Dark Phoenix [2019]). This eagerness to capitalize on the genre’s popularity was parodied in Teen Titans Go! To the Movies (2018) in its trailers for imaginary upcoming films like Alfred the Movie,21 Batmobile the Movie, Utility Belt the Movie, and a Batman film that in its diegetic universe is appropriately called Batman Again.22 The superhero film is also worth studying for reasons not connected to industrial practices; one of the central assertions of this book is that the genre has been able to reflect the times in which it is made and the social, political, and ideological factors that shape them in palpable ways, a claim that has often been persuasively made about the products of national
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cinemas throughout the twentieth century. What might they have to say about the America of the new millennium which saw their construction? Is it a coincidence that the superhero renaissance emerges at almost the exact same period we refer to as the post-9/11 era? As many have argued there are striking similarities between the fears and anxieties dramatized in the modern superhero film and those of the United States in the first decades of the twenty-first century (see Kellner, 2009; Pheasant-Kelly, 2013). The question then might be what social function does the superhero film fulfill? Do they enable American (and indeed global) audiences to “escape from the very real horrors of international unrest and terrorism whose epic moment was September 11, 2001”?23 We will see that what the genre as a whole reveals are a striking series of wish-fulfillment narratives which operate on both personal and cultural levels and a perfect example of André Bazin’s assertion that popular American cinema has managed “in an extraordinarily competent way, to show American society just as it wanted to see itself.”24 More than this, some have speculated that the cultural dominance of the superhero has affected the real world: that the emergence of Donald Trump might be blamed on the superhero film or that certain films from the genre are so important for audiences that Black Panther could be described as “a defining moment for Black America?”25 As significant as these claims are, some go even further, suggesting that superheroes have emerged as god-like figures for twenty-first-century global cultures with books, articles, and editorials asking variations of the question Anne Billson posed in a Telegraph article: “Are Superheroes the New Gods?” (2013) in which she writes, “God is dead, but Superman lives!”26 All of these ideas, each of which will be returned to in this book, are not suggestive of an ephemeral and disposable genre for children or one that should be patronizingly dismissed as “not cinema”; rather one which is rife with the paradoxes of the modern age and, above all, intimately connected to the cultures and times in which they are produced.27 This book is structured into five chapters, each exploring an aspect of the contemporary superhero film and each paired with two case studies illustrative of the chapter’s central topic. The introduction will establish a variety of themes and a critical context that I will return to and build on to provide
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Fig. 0.3 The Dark Knight (2008): How far does the superhero film mine the fears and anxieties of the times in which they are made, and should their protagonists be considered godlike figures in the new millennium?
a sense of continuity, development, and coherence throughout the book. Chapter 1, as one might expect, offers a framing of the parameters of the study. Should the superhero film be regarded as a genre in its own right? If so, what are its codes and conventions? What is its relationship to the comic books that formed it? For assistance we turn to Peter Coogan’s indispensable study of the form Superhero: The Secret Origin of a Genre (2006), written just before what I have called the superhero renaissance had solidified. The opening case study takes on one of the most iconic heroes of the genre, Spider-Man, chosen especially because he is a character who helped define many of the codes and conventions discussed in both comic book and cinematic iterations. The second case study, the Deadpool series, provides a productive counterpoint to Spider-Man, as the character and the films he has featured in offer several challenges to these very same codes and conventions, but in intriguing ways adhere to them just as frequently. Chapter 2 moves on to discuss the mythologies of the superhero genre by addressing how the heroic figures a culture produces have tended to embody the prevailing ideologies and values of the times in which they are formed and should be regarded not as simply crowd-pleasing tales but, in the case of superheroes, “the closest our modern culture has to myths.”28 This chapter turns to Richard Reynolds’ Superheroes: A Modern Mythology (1992) to define the form from ideological perspectives, following such
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scholars as Jason Dittmer in Captain America and the Nationalist Superhero: Metaphors, Narratives, and Geopolitics (2012) and John Shelton Lawrence and Robert Jewett in The Myth of the American Superhero (2002). I consider the likes of Thor and Wonder Woman, who are literally gods, and Captain America, the Incredible Hulk, and the Watchmen, who are regarded as godlike figures within the diegetic worlds of their films. It is entirely logical then that we turn to perhaps two of the most culturally significant and enduring superheroes for this chapter’s case studies: Superman and Batman. Both have been an indelible part of popular culture since their first appearances in comic book form at the end of the 1930s. A variety of writers have suggested that Superman is an embodiment of what many perceive as quintessential American values, yet the films in which he has featured from 1978 to the present day offer variations on this that show them to be closely connected to their respective cultural moments.29 Batman remains the archetypal dysfunctional superhero in the cultural imaginary, providing an excellent contrasting figure in his many iterations: the Adam West era (1966–68); the two Burton films, Batman (1989) and Batman Returns (1992); the two Schumacher films, Batman Forever (1995), Batman & Robin (1997); the Christopher Nolan Dark Knight trilogy, comprised of Batman Begins (2005), The Dark Knight (2008), and The Dark Knight Rises (2012); and the incarnation of the character played by Ben Affleck in the DCEU in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016), Suicide Squad (2016), and Justice League (2017), all of which were deconstructed in the witty and affectionate The Lego Batman Movie (2017). After addressing the codes and conventions, and the mythologies of the superhero genre, chapters 3 and 4 are both concerned with what we might call the politics of representation. Carolyn Cocca, in Superwomen: Gender, Power, and Representation (2016) contended that while you do not have to have a perfect demographic match with a fictional character to identify with her or him, seeing someone who looks like you can have a positive impact on self-esteem. You are more likely to imagine yourself as a hero if you see yourself represented as a hero. Marginalized groups have been forced to “cross-identify” with those different to them while dominant groups have not. That is, because white males have been so overrepresented, women and people of color have had to identify with white
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male protagonists. But white males have not had to identify with the small number of women and people of color protagonists.30 Cocca’s observation here is not anecdotal but supported and confirmed by a variety of empirical studies conducted by a wide range of individuals and associations. With this in mind, chapter 3 examines how the superhero film has historically represented gender and sexuality on the screen. and whether accusations about it being a largely reactionary genre which has most often embodied conservative fantasies and has tended to marginalize superheroes who are not white, heterosexual, and male are as true in their contemporary incarnation as they might have been in previous eras. In terms of sexuality, I explore how the superhero film has been an emphatically heteronormative space with only rare and fleeting allusions to sexualities other than what is regarded as ‘the norm’ even though they are produced in an era and by a culture that is said to be more diverse than at any time in its history. The first case study for this section examines Wonder Woman, one of the rare superheroes to have been continuously published since her debut in All Star Comics no. 8 in October 1941. But despite being one of the most iconic of all superheroes she had never appeared in a live action film until she was featured as a supporting player in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice in 2016, in her own film, Wonder Woman (2017), and the sequel Wonder Woman 1984 which followed in 2020. For the second case study I turn to the animated film series about a family of superheroes, in Pixar’s The Incredibles (2004) and Incredibles 2 (2018), both hugely impactful and successful on their release. I focus on aspects of the genre that are rarely highlighted: the domestic space and familial relations among superheroes. It might be argued that much had changed in the world and in the genre in the fourteen years between the two films, but rather than ignore these developments the sequel places changing attitudes toward gender roles in the new millennium at the center of its narrative. Following on from this, Chapter 4 then interrogates the genre’s portrayal of ethnicity with the acknowledgment that there have been very few superheroes who are not white as primary protagonists in superhero films. There have been African American characters in the genre, but the vast majority have been largely secondary (Falcon, War Machine, Cyborg, etc.), and the absence of Asian, Hispanic, and Arab superheroes or even characters is
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so pronounced that it becomes a problem even for the selection of case studies in this chapter as, at the time of writing, there are absolutely none of note that have been produced by American film companies and seen by general audiences. For the first case study we turn to the Will Smith vehicle Hancock, released in July 2008, the most successful superhero film with a black protagonist at the time of its release and a film that has been praised and criticized in almost equal measure. We then explore Black Panther, the eighteenth film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the first film with a black character as a protagonist in the series, and perhaps the most culturally impactful superhero film of the modern era. In the book’s final chapter, I look beyond the borders of the United States to consider superhero films made around the globe. What might they be able to say about the diverse cultures in which they are produced? How far do they deviate from the codes and conventions of the genre we established in chapter 1 and the mythologies explored in chapter 2? How are they similar to American films, which have a tremendous influence on them, and how do they differ? Moving between Spain, England, South Korea, the Philippines, Thailand, India, and other countries I examine whether foreign superhero films should be considered, as Anurima Chanda argues, not an example of “marginal cultural production” based on “mimicking”31 but rather a process of cross pollination or transcreation, understood as “a transnational and translational instantiation of the superhero embedded in familial and vernacular conventions” of their own cultures.32 The British superhero film SuperBob provides the book’s penultimate case study and is a text that both engages with and deconstructs some of the essential tenets of the genre, which have been largely defined by American superhero films. It adopts what we might consider, with some qualification, particularly British elements into its narrative and style (characters, location, the mockumentary form, self-deprecating humor, etc.) while at the same time offering striking deviations from the codes and conventions of the genre. For the final case study, we turn to the phenomenal success of the Indian superhero series comprised of Koi . . . Mil Gaya (2003), Krrish (2006), and Krrish 3 (2013). The films, directed by Rakesh Roshan and starring his son, Hrithik Roshan, have become one of the biggest franchises in Indian film history, expanding beyond the cinema to television, comics, and video games. As we habitually see with the American film industry, the films become bigger as the series progresses: with larger budgets, more
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Fig. 0.4 Joker (2019) became a cultural battleground on which a war of meaning was waged and was the first film from the genre to win an award as prestigious as the Golden Lion at Venice.
characters, increasing amounts of special effects, and more and more elaborate action sequences. The trilogy draws extensively and fairly explicitly on American superheroes like Spider-Man, Superman, and Batman; however, at the same time they are uniquely Indian and engage with their own cultural values and beliefs in never less than intriguing ways. Just as defining a starting point for this reemergence of the superhero film has been challenging, even more so is speculation about when or even if it might end. Despite regular warnings that the genre had already reached a saturation point as early as 2014, this end does not seem to be coming any time soon, with 2018 and 2019 being remarkable successes for the genre.33 Steven Spielberg, one of the central architects of blockbuster cinema in the four decades since the release of Jaws in 1975 commented that, like the Western before it, the superhero film could not go on indefinitely. He remarked: We were around when the Western died and there will be a time when the superhero movie goes the way of the Western. It doesn’t mean there won’t be another occasion where the Western comes back and the superhero movie someday returns. Of course, right
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now the superhero movie is alive and thriving. . . . There will come a day when the mythological stories are supplanted by some other genre that possibly some young filmmaker is just thinking about discovering for all of us.34 Spielberg is of course correct in his assertion that genres fall in and out of favor with audiences, and there is no reason to assume that the superhero film will be any different. Indeed, some prominent voices, like that of James Cameron, who has done as much as Spielberg to define the contours of the Hollywood blockbuster, have even expressed a desire that it will, stating, “I’m hoping we’ll start getting ‘Avenger’ fatigue here pretty soon.”35 The Western fell out of favor when audiences no longer found its narratives relevant and engaging, when the films no longer reflected the experiences and the values of the audiences that had once gone to see them en masse. The same fate will certainly befall the superhero film when it cannot tell the stories that people want to see in the ways they want to see them. But for now and for the foreseeable future we live in the age of the superhero, and the parameters of this genre, why it appeals to audiences across the globe, and what it has to say about the world we live in are the central questions this book seeks to explore.
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THE CONTEMPORARY SUPERHERO FILM PROJECTIONS OF POWER AND IDENTITY
Despite dominating theater screens like never before, the superhero genre remains critically marginalized—ignored at best and more often actively maligned. Terence McSweeney lays out its narrative codes and conventions, exploring why it appeals to diverse audiences and what it has to say about the world in the first two decades of the twenty-first century. Unpacking the social, ideological, and cultural content of superhero films, he scrutinizes representations of gender, race, and sexuality as well as how the genre’s conventions relate to and comment on contemporary political debates. Going beyond American contributions to the genre, the book features extensive analysis of superhero films from all over the world. Its presentation of a range of case studies and critical debates is accessible and engaging for students, scholars, and enthusiasts at all levels. “With the emphasis on the global impact of comic book crusaders on screen, McSweeney offers a powerful take on the cultural and categorical stakes involved in superhero cinema that will appeal to comics fans and scholars alike.” BLAIR DAVIS, AUTHOR OF MOVIE COMICS: PAGE TO SCREEN/SCREEN TO PAGE AND COMIC BOOK MOVIES
“McSweeney has written an excellent introduction to superhero cinema and the surrounding scholarship in the field. The Contemporary Superhero Film does exactly what I’d expect in a student-friendly overview of the superhero genre.” IAIN SMITH, AUTHOR OF THE HOLLYWOOD MEME: TRANSNATIONAL ADAPTATIONS IN WORLD CINEMA
TERENCE McSWEENEY is senior lecturer in film and television studies at Solent University. His books include Avengers Assemble! Critical Perspectives on the Marvel Cinematic Universe (Wallflower, 2018) and The War on Terror and American Film: 9/11 Frames Per Second (2014). THE SHORT CUTS SERIES is a comprehensive list of introductory texts covering the full spectrum of film studies, specifically designed for building an individually styled library for all students and enthusiasts of cinema and popular culture.
ISBN: 978-0-231-19241-5
WALLFLOWER
FILM STUDIES
cover image BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE (2016) Warner Bros./Photofest
9 780231 192415 P R I NT E D I N T HE U.S .A .